


split like a cell

by waitfortheclick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitfortheclick/pseuds/waitfortheclick
Summary: Castiel talks, Meg talks back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, wrote this 4 years ago, haven't really edited it, etc. I appreciate critique, thank you.

Castiel stands in the bedroom where Sam and Dean sleep.  He stares at the wall above their beds and imagines he’s a bald eagle, he spreads his wings and feels powerful.  Confident his eggs are safe, he heads downstairs.

The stairs creak and Meg’s eyes go black on instinct, but she doesn’t move.  Castiel joins her and notes she’s haloed by the kitchen lights.  He doesn’t tell her.  She’s leaning against the counter, and he hoists himself up to sit on the table to face her.

“I was in France earlier.  I found a canoe and traveled down the Loire.  I found hops growing wild.”

Meg sips her beer.  “You found a canoe.”

“Yes I."  He stops, frowning.  "I was in France.  I didn’t kill anyone… I don’t have money…”

“It’s OK."  She wonders if he gets worse at night, or if he just feels more pressure to hold himself together around the Winchesters.  She remembers the institution and thinks it might be both.

"What do you do all night?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You know I’d never read your mind.”

“I know, Cas.”

Castiel runs his fingers over the wood grain of the table.  Meg isn’t sure whether she’s more surprised by their companionable silences or their comfortable conversation.  She thinks about shifting allegiances, malleable morality.

“You killed my sister.”

“She was going to kill you.”

“I wanted to die.”

“I know, Cas."  She isn’t going to argue, especially not when the first answer on her tongue is that they need him like a tool.  Like a hammer.  

A few minutes pass and Castiel looks up at her again with wide eyes, "You killed my sister.”

“I did."  She drinks her beer and watches him.

"They killed your sister, didn’t they?”

“Cas.”

“Did you feel it, too?”

She keeps drinking.

“I know you had to, and I am grateful.  Our numbers are falling, though.  I can’t help but think about that.”

“I know, Cas.  What were you tonight?”

He smiles, and she thinks he looks happy, “I was a bird of prey.”

She nods thoughtfully.

“I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry I pushed you into the Holy fire.”

Meg laughs, “I trapped you in it in the first place, baby bird.”

“Dean looks at me with haunted eyes.”

Meg feels suddenly the weight of this relationship.  This is the most she’s ever carried anyone, but she’s too tired to fight it.  Especially not now, at 3 am, when it’s two monsters in a kitchen protected by blood and salt.  Meg is struck, from time to time, by the impossibility of her reality.  She’s self aware enough.

Besides, Castiel doesn’t tell anyone about these talks.  She thinks he might not even remember them.

Castiel is watching her expectantly, and she sighs.

“Dean protects his family.  You’re a threat to his family, and you are his family.  And you’re falling apart.”

“I miss him.”

“Nothing happens overnight.”

“Thank you, Meg.”

“Hey, I’m your nurse, right, Cas?”

“That’s right.”

They listen to the wind.

“Do you think about her?”

“You said you don’t read my mind.”

“I don’t.”

She sighs.

“Do you?”

“Go away, Cas.”

He’s gone.

The next morning he brings her cherry blossoms from Japan, and Dean stares.


End file.
